


you really got me

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gratuitous use of 60s slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day, and Ludwig's forgotten.</p>
<p>Luckily, Emma has plans in store for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you really got me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Title from the song by the Kinks, because they're 60s and they're bitchin'.

It’s 10 AM on a Sunday and Ludwig is doing the dishes, The Chordettes’s _Lollipop_ softly playing in the background when Emma pops in.

“Luuuuudwig,” she drawls, head poking out from the side of the doorway, green eyes twinkling when Ludwig starts and drops the plate he was previously washing in the sink with a loud _clank!_ “Have you made any plans for this Friday?” she asks slyly.

“Ah… Friday?” he parrots, fumbling to retrieve the plate with his soapy fingers, and Emma clucks her tongue disapprovingly, moves away from the doorway and into the kitchen to face him properly.

She’s wearing his shirt from last night, pale blue and oversized on her, nearly drowning her smaller frame. She’s rolled up the sleeves to her elbows, cuffs folded back, and the hem of it grazes her knees, until Emma places a hand on her hip and it rises, a sliver of her pale thigh peeking underneath the rumpled fabric.

Ludwig flushes and turns back to the dishes. He tries not to think about what she’s wearing (or not wearing) underneath that shirt.

“Yes, Friday. Do you remember what day it is this Friday?” Emma continues, sticking her lips up in a pout, and Ludwig for the life of him does not know why this Friday in particular seems so special to his girlfriend.

He mouths this week’s dates to himself as he rinses the plate off and places it on the rack next to the rest of the clean dishes, mutters of _tomorrow, the 10 th, Tuesday, 11th,_ and Emma watches him patiently, foot tapping against the cool linoleum floor as she waits for him to realise.

“…Oh.”

There it is.

Ludwig grabs a dirty glass and begins scrubbing it as Emma stares him down with one eyebrow raised.

“You forgot, didn’t you,” she states flatly.

Ludwig scrubs the glass with more vigor, avoiding her piercing gaze.

Emma sighs.

“You’re a dip stick, you know that?” she says, lips quirking up in a small smile, and Ludwig knows he’s safe for now.

He finishes cleaning the glass and places it alongside the other clean dishes and turns the tap off. Turning to her, he wipes his sudsy fingers on his pyjama pants before spreading his arms as Emma moves forwards to wrap her arms around his neck in a warm hug.

“Sorry,” he says to her, looking down, “I took an overnight shift on that day; Feli ditched his work and I have to make up for it,” he adds, apologetic, and she shakes her head, still smiling.

“Don’t sweat it.”

“You’re not bummed out?” Ludwig asks.

“Nah,” Emma answers, bringing her hands up to ruffle his hair a bit. “We’ll – well, _I’ll_ figure something out for Friday. We’re still having a boss Valentine’s Day, if I have anything to say about it,” and Ludwig smiles at that, kissing her nose, which she scrunches up at the action. She retaliates by bringing a hand down from her hold and smacking his butt. Ludwig immediately lets her go, startled and indignant.

She backs up, ignoring his splutters, stretching her arms up and yawning, his shirt riding up even more over her body. “Man, I’m tired! You wiped me out last night,” she adds with a wink, and Ludwig now knows for certainty that she is _not_ wearing anything else underneath, and his face immediately flares up a fierce red.

“Please put some clothes on,” ignoring – or trying to – her last comment, slapping a hand on his face.

“Why? Don’t like what you see?” Emma teases, sticking her tongue out.

Ludwig does a one eighty and makes for the living room of their apartment, grabbing for his glasses along the way, left on the kitchen counter. They’re black and thick rimmed, big with round edges framing the lenses.

“I’m leaving,” he answers simply, cheeks hotter than ever as he shuffles with his glasses, and Emma’s peals of laughter can be heard from behind him.

“You’re so fun to bug,” she sighs out happily before turning around towards the hallway. “Whatever. I have to get ready anyway, and I’ve got to take a shower, my hair’s groady,” she says as she inspects her wavy blond strands.

Ludwig hums as he listens, settling on their ugly living room couch – it’s a pale blue colour, with white stripes adorning it, and the fabric is rough against the skin – and grabbing the first thing he can find, Emma’s latest read, Friedman’s _Feminine Mystique_. Emma leaves to get ready, and Ludwig grabs a carton of cigarettes left on the coffee table to light one. As he reads, he can hear her singing loudly and off-tune  _I Want to Hold Your Hand_ , and he smiles to himself, taking a drag of his cigarette.

When Emma comes back, she’s decked out in a striped sweater layered over a pink turtleneck, tan trousers to match and chin-length hair settled in soft curls behind a thick headband.

She goes to Ludwig and kisses his cheek before slapping the cigarette out of his hands. Ludwig groans in annoyance.

“Don’t smoke,” she scolds, “I read somewhere that it’s bad for you. Oh, that book is choice,” she adds, nodding at the book in his hands before heading for the entrance hallway. Ludwig bends over to retrieve his fallen cigarette and snuff it out properly, throwing it on the coffee table once it’s done.

“Yeah, it’s not bad. Where are you going?”

“Oh, I’m just heading out to Eliza’s pad. Gilbert stood her up the other night and she was really hacked about it, so I’m going to cheer her up. We’re going to watch the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show,” she answers as she grabs white shoes and a matching handbag along with her overcoat.

“Am I going to have to beat up my brother?” Ludwig asks drily as he flips a page to his book.

“You know Eliza; she can hold her own. But I’m sure the sentiment will be appreciated,” Emma shoots back as she opens the door. “I’ll see you later!”

“Love you,” her boyfriend calls out as the front door closes.

\---

Later that night, when they’re both watching reruns of The Flintstones on their small black-and-white TV, the room dark save for the bright screen, huddled up on the couch, Ludwig asks her about her day.

“I had a blast; the Beatles were wicked,” she gushes, “John Lennon is a dreeeam,” she sighs out, and laughs when she notices the pout Ludwig is sporting. “I still love you more, you ditz,” she adds, bopping him on the nose. “You’re way more of a stud than he’ll ever be.”

“Anyway, Eliza and I went out for ice cream after that – don’t give me that look, ice cream is a valid cheer up charm no matter the season – and we talked. Apparently this is the fifth date Gilbert’s forgotten about, so Eliza’s had enough and now she’s on the make.”

“I thought her and Gilbert were going steady,” Ludwig comments idly while tracing patterns on her arm, and Emma shakes her head against his shoulder.

“Not anymore, I guess. She told me she started going out with Roderich,” and Ludwig snorts at Fred Flinstone’s antics back on the television screen.

“Well, I guess he’s not bad.”

Emma wrinkles her nose. “He’s a total candyass. Gilbert’s cooler.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“You’re biased; he’s your brother.”

“Which means I know more than anyone of his true colours.”

“You just dig Roderich because you’re a candyass too,” Emma teases with a poke to Ludwig’s stomach. Ludwig jumps and pokes her back, and a tickle fight ensues. Emma loses spectacularly, loud laughter echoing in their apartment.

“No fair! You and your big muscles,” she huffs out as Ludwig pins her on the couch, wriggling and kicking. Ludwig winces when her foot hits his side.

“Why do I put up with you,” he sighs out, bringing his hands down to tickle her waist. She laughs again, slaps his hands away and brings her own around him to pull him down flush against her.

“Because you love me,” she answers, pecking his lips. “By the way, I figured out what we’re gonna do for Friday,” she adds, hands travelling down the expanse of her boyfriend’s broad back.

Ludwig hums, fingers twirling around Emma’s hair splayed against the gritty fabric of their couch.

“Did you?”

“Yep,” and those slim hands travel further down, pulling on his shirt and untucking the hem from underneath his pants, “And it’s gonna be _outta sight_. But you’re not allowed to know what it is.”

“I’m not?”

“Nope,” Emma says, slithering her hands around to unclasp his belt, “it’s a surprise. You’ll just have to wait.” She grins up at him, the Flintstones playing in the background now forgotten.

Emma brings her hands up and picks Ludwig’s glasses up off his nose, folding them and placing them on the coffee table before looking back up at him. Ludwig blinks owlishly, and peers at her as her smile grows wider.

“Now undress me, you ditz.”

\---

It’s Friday, February 14th 1964 and Ludwig is sitting at his desk in his office catching up on the work his friend Feliciano had neglected to complete, and he’s fairly sure it’s only him and his ever workaholic and grumpy co-worker Arthur left at the firm, seeing as it’s 8PM and everyone else has gone to celebrate Valentine’s with their special someone.

So Ludwig looks up, alarmed, when he hears a door slam violently from outside his office, followed by heated yells and a familiar pearly voice, gaily laughing and singing the Temptations’ _Ain’t too Proud to Beg_. He gets up to see what’s going on, and opens the door to his office. He’s met with a familiar figure right in front of him, grimacing towards the irate Englishman with a “Climb it, Tarzan!” when he flips her the bird.

Emma turns back when she notices the door’s opened, and bumps into Ludwig. She stumbles back slightly, grabbing her hat and smiling up at him.

“Oh! Hello there, handsome. Didn’t see you there.”

Ludwig gently grabs her by the arm and leads her into his office, closing the door behind him. When he spots the scrutinizing and judging glare from Arthur from the clear window panes of his office wall, he also closes the blinds, before turning back to face his girlfriend.

“What are you doing here?”

Emma holds up a vinyl record and a basket in both her hands.

“Surprise! I’m bringing Valentine’s to you. We’re gonna have a ball right here in your office,” she exclaims giddily, shaking the objects in her hands for emphasis. “Now where’s your record player? I know you have one in here… I brought in Elvis, I know you don’t like the Beatles or the Kinks or whatever. Oh, and I’ve got some wine too! It’s the good stuff, don’t worry,” she rambles on, walking around the office, and Ludwig is once again struck by his girlfriend’s zeal.

“Wha – how did you even get here?! We only have one car!”

“Oh, Ludwig, sometimes you can be thicker than a five dollar malt, I swear,” Emma sighs out, having finally found the record player and putting the vinyl disk in. The soft notes of Elvis Presley’s _It’s Now or Never_ start drifting in the room. “Eliza drove me here – she’s got one of the new Ford Mustangs, did you know? I know our Chevy is pretty nice, but her car… _whoooo_ boy,” she continues, a flurry of words escaping her lips as she waltzes over to Ludwig.

“Wait – wait, wait, wait,” he asks, hands flailing, “I haven’t even gone through half of Feliciano’s workload yet, and – mph!”

Emma shuts him up with a firm kiss on the lips. When she leans back, she smiles at the way Ludwig’s glasses are askew, perched crookedly on his nose.

“Don’t go ape on me, Luddy,” and the man flushes at the nickname, “I know you’re a good friend, but this’ll be Feli’s fault and responsibility if his own work doesn’t get completed on time. Besides, he’s probably out scoring right now, so why shouldn’t we?” she finishes, winking. “Let’s have some fun.”

Ludwig sighs, adjusts his glasses, and with the way his shoulders droop in defeat, Emma knows she’s won, and she smirks.

“Well, I’ll give you your gift now, then,” he says, and Emma lights up.

“Ooh, I knew I kept you around for a reason,” she quips, and Ludwig huffs out a laugh at that as he goes back to his desk, bending down to grab his briefcase.

“It’s not much, but I thought you’d like it – make memories,” he says as he shuffles around for the contents in his brief, pulling out a small and carefully wrapped box. Emma takes it and starts unwrapping it, Ludwig waiting anxiously by her side.

Emma gasps when she pulls out her gift.

“Oh, Ludwig! This is bad! I’m gonna have a gas with this,” she smiles happily, looking at her new camera in awe. “Say cheese!” she adds, bringing her gift up in front of her eyes, and Ludwig obliges, giving out an awkward smile. The shutter goes off with a click, and Emma walks over to her boyfriend, kissing him full on the mouth once again.

“Thanks, baby,” she says against his lips, and Ludwig kisses back with a “You’re welcome,” before she backs away.

“Alright, you hunk, now’s my turn to give you your present. Well, part one,” Emma says, placing her camera on Ludwig’s desk. She turns around to face him, and Ludwig looks at her inquisitively, wondering what this gift of hers might be.

Emma takes off her hat first, flinging it against the desk chair, and shakes her head a bit, fluffing up her wavy curls. She then peels off her coat, which soon joins her hat. She’s wearing a sleeveless navy dress, the hem of it cutting off just above her knee, with small white daisies patterned across it. Stretching her arms above her head, Emma smiles to her boyfriend and wiggles her butt a bit, and Ludwig smiles back, amused by her antics and blushing at the sight of her legs, but he still doesn’t know where she’s going with all this.

It’s not until she brings her arms back down to start unbuttoning the front of her dress that it clicks.

Ludwig opens his mouth, gapes, closes it, opens it again, flushes ten different shades of red before walking to Emma in two strides, placing his hands on hers to stop her. She looks up, pouting.

“Emma; we’re–”

“–in your office, I know. I thought you’d be totally stoked to do it here! I know you, mister; beneath those cool eyes of yours you like this kind of stuff,” she smirks, and Ludwig feels his cheeks burn.

“Arthur is right outside!” he retorts desperately, and Emma waves a hand dismissively, kicking her kitten heels off all the while.

“Pshh. I bet he’s long booked it by now; he probably knew exactly what was gonna happen as soon as he saw me. And if he is still here, he can just tune us out.”

“You’re not helping,” Ludwig hisses out, mortified at the idea that one of his co-workers could have an inkling of what goes on in his sex life. Emma simply pouts up at him, and reaches for his cardigan, unbuttoning it as well.

“Come on, don’t be so square. I just want us to have fun for tonight,” and the way she smiles, soft pink lips curled upwards, and the way she blinks her eyelashes at him, so coyly, and knowingly, seals the deal. Ludwig can never say no to her anyway.

He leans forward, glasses bumping against the bridge of her nose as he kisses her, coaxing her lips open, and Emma lets out a surprised but pleased moan, kissing him right back as her deft fingers keep working on his sweater. Likewise, Ludwig unbuttons the front of her dress, clumsily but surely as they kiss.

As the last button comes undone, Ludwig moves his hands down, rough but warm fingers grazing down the sides of her waist, stopping at the top of her thighs and drawing circles there as Emma pulls the cardigan down his arms and leaves it there, hands now grabbing at Ludwig’s tie to pull him forward. Ludwig starts but their kiss doesn’t break as they back up further and further, until Emma’s backside hits the front of his desk and she falls backwards, pulling Ludwig down with her with a loud _thump!_

Ludwig finds himself hovering over Emma, hands braced on either side of her head and his legs between hers as she’s splayed on his office desk, papers strewn about from the previous commotion. Her cheeks are rosy with their little stunt, eyes glittering, and her chest heaves slightly with each intake of breath. That’s when he notices that with her dress now bunched up to the top of her thighs and the front of her dress fully opened, he has a full view of her lingerie.

Before he can dwell on that and blush to the tip of his toes, however, Emma wraps her legs around his waist and brings him closer, fumbling with her hands as she guesses where his belt buckle is.

“I like these corduroys on you, but right now I’d like them even better _off_ ,” she teases, tongue poking out as she tries to hurriedly unclasp his belt. Ludwig lets out a laugh in answer, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He’ll truly never cease to love this girl.

“Alright,” he says, skirting a hand up her abdomen and leaning down for another kiss.

Emma happily meets him halfway.

\---

Later, when they’re flush with exhaustion and contentment, Emma cozily wrapped in Ludwig’s cardigan and him in his rumpled shirt and boxers, they open the basket Emma had brought along with the vinyl, where a simple meal awaits them, accompanied by red wine. Emma had brought in waffles and fruits, along with one cupcake with sprinkles for them to share.

“Because breakfast at night is the best, and we haven’t had waffles in a while,” she’d explained with a smile as she had raised a fork with a bite of waffle to Ludwig’s lips. He’d taken it, obliging but blushing, chewing before leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

“They’re perfect.”

“Right on, they are. I made them, after all,” Emma teases, grabbing a forkful of fruits from her own plate. “They’re the real deal, Belgian recipe from my grandmother.”

Ludwig smiles.

“Oh! I almost forgot; your second present. Well, it’s really ours,” Emma says, turning back to rummage in the basket. After a moment, she turns back, two pieces of paper in her hand, looking triumphant.

“They’re tickets! To an early viewing of _The Pink Panther_ ; I heard it was a hit back in Europe,” she rambles on as she hands one ticket over to Ludwig.

“How much did these cost?” he asks, worried, but Emma shushes him, planting a kiss on his lips before patting his legs, prompting him to unfold them. When he does so, she lies down, settling her head on his lap and smiling up at him.

“Don’t have a cow, Luddy – here’s the other part. I got a letter the other day, and – I got the job!”

“Really!?”

“Yep!” she reaffirms, grabbing blindly for her plate and placing it on her stomach, eating all the while. “At the bank, you know the one. So getting these tickets was easy as pie. I’ve got connections now,” she finishes with a wink and a mouthful of waffle.

And Ludwig can’t help but think, as he looks down to his girlfriend, noticing the myriad of freckles speckled along her nose and cheekbones, the rose of her cheeks, the sparkling green of her eyes and the smear of whipped cream and waffles crumbs around her lips, her hair a mess of tangled curls, that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

“You’re wonderful,” is what he says, and Emma glows, like every time he tells her so.

“Is that a thank you, I love you?” she asks, fingers brushing back and forth against the hairs of his legs as she looks up at him inquiringly.

“I guess so.”

“Well, that just won’t do,” Emma replies, pushing away her half-eaten plate of waffle and getting back up to straddle Ludwig, who’s now the one looking up at her. She slowly wraps her arms around his neck, chest pressed flush against his.

“How about you _show_ me how much you love me instead of just telling me,” she asks, a coquettish air about her, and Ludwig brings his arms around her waist, hands roaming over the small of her back beneath his cardigan. His heart leaps with warmth at the impish twinkle in her eyes.

“Gladly,” he answers, warm breath mingling with hers as their lips touch.

For her, he’d travel to the moon and back.


End file.
